23. Bodie
Bodie
“Come on, come on, come on, Shred,” I say, my voice full of tension and my eyes darting from side to side, making sure that I’m not about to crash into anything.
I need to move fast.
But not so fast that I don’t make it out alive…
The pier’s lights are a fading blur in Shred’s rearview mirror, the van’s engine roaring like my heart as I floor it down the coastal road.
Bullets whizzed past me back there, sharp cracks slicing the night, and my hands are still shaking on the wheel, gripping so tight my knuckles glow white under the dashboard’s dim light.
The ocean’s a dark churn to my left, waves pounding like they’re cheering me on, but all I can think about is Henry—my Daddy—back at the pier, facing Vince and those horrible cartel men.
I did my part, showed my face like we planned, drew Vince out, but now I’m speeding toward the safety checkpoint, and every mile feels like I’m abandoning him, even though I know it’s what he wanted…
“Get it together, Bodie,” I whisper, my voice wobbly, my Little side clawing for comfort.
Poot and Billy are on the passenger seat, their googly eyes staring like they’re telling me to be brave.
I swerve around a bend, Shred’s tires squealing, the safety checkpoint just a few miles ahead—a secluded pull-off near a dune, hidden to the side of the road, where Henry said to wait.
My sketchpad’s sliding around the dash, and I wish I could grab it, draw the fear away, but there’s no time. Not with the echo of gunfire still ringing in my ears.
The road’s empty, just me and the night, but my heart’s pounding like I’m paddling into a monster wave. I keep checking the mirrors, half-expecting headlights to flare behind me, Vince’s men or worse, the cartel, hot on my tail.
Henry’s voice crackles through the radio clipped to my hoodie, his growl steady despite the chaos I know he’s in.
“Bodie, you clear?” Henry says. “Talk to me, Little One.”
I fumble for the radio, my fingers clumsy, and press the button.
“I’m clear, Daddy,” I say, trying to sound strong, but my voice is small, all Little and scared. “Driving to the checkpoint. No one’s following… I think.” I glance at the mirrors again, my stomach twisting. “A-a-a-a-are you okay? It sounded bad back there.”
“Focus on driving, sweet boy,” Henry says, his Daddy tone firm but warm, grounding me. “We’ve got this. You did good. Get to the checkpoint, hide in the back, and wait for me. No heroics, got it?”
“Got it,” I mumble, my Little side clinging to his rules, needing them like a life raft. “Promise you’ll come back, Daddy.”
“Promise, baby boy,” Henry says, and I hear the steel in his voice, the Night Ops Daddy who doesn’t break vows. “Now focus on the road ahead. Stay safe.”
The radio goes quiet, and I’m alone again, just me, Shred, and my stuffies.
The checkpoint’s close now, a dirt pull-off tucked behind a dune, invisible from the main road.
I ease off the gas, turning onto the sandy track, Shred’s shocks creaking as I park under the dune’s shadow. I kill the engine, the silence heavy, broken only by the distant waves and my own ragged breathing.
My Little side surges, scared and small, and I scramble into the back, grabbing Poot and Billy, hugging them tight.
“Okay, guys,” I whisper, tucking myself into my nest of blankets and pillows, my voice trembling. “We’re gonna be good for Daddy, right? We wait here, all safe and sound, like he said.”
I nuzzle Poot’s sweet face to mine, Billy’s sunglasses glinting in the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains.
I pull my romper from my bag, slipping it on under Henry’s t-shirt, the soft fabric hugging me like a hug from my Little Space.
It helps a little, but the fear’s still there, coiling tight, a riptide pulling at my heart.
I curl up, my stuffies pressed against my chest, and try to breathe, slow and deep, like Henry taught me. My Little side wants to hide, to stay small and safe, but my grown-up side knows what’s at stake.
Henry, Cole, Connor—they’re outnumbered, fighting cartel pros, and Vince’s there, that snake who used my Little side against me, who wants me dead.
I picture Henry’s scar, his dark eyes, the way he held me on the beach, promising we’d figure it all out. I can’t lose him, not now, not when I’m falling so hard I can barely paddle straight.
A low rumble cuts through the quiet, and my eyes snap open, heart lurching.
I ease up, crawling to the rear window, my fingers trembling as I peel back the curtain, just a sliver.
A blacked-out SUV speeds past on the main road, no headlights, its engine a menacing growl.
My stomach drops.
It’s them—more cartel men, heading for the pier.
They must’ve been backup, waiting in the wings, and now they’re joining the fight. Henry’s already got his hands full, and this… this could tip the scales.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, clutching Poot so tight his fur squishes. My Little side wants to curl up, pretend it’s a bad dream, but I can’t. Henry needs to know. I grab the radio, my hands shaking, and press the button.
“Daddy, it’s me,” I say, my voice urgent, forcing myself to sound clear. “Can you hear me? I’m at the checkpoint, safe, but… I just saw another SUV. Black, no lights, speeding toward the pier. More cartel guys, I’m sure of it. Be careful, please.”
There’s a pause, static crackling, and I hold my breath, terrified I’ve messed up. Then Henry’s voice comes through, rough but steady.
“Good boy, Bodie,” Henry answers. “That’s my brave Little One. Stay hidden, no matter what. I’m fighting my way back to you, don’t care how many cartel bastards show up. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Daddy,” I say, tears pricking my eyes, my Little side glowing at his praise but terrified for him. “But… there’s so many of them now. You’re already outnumbered. I’m scared.”
“I know, sweet boy,” Henry says, his voice softening, all Daddy warmth. “But Cole, Connor, and me—we’re Guards. We don’t go down easy. You trust your Daddy, right?”
“Always,” I whisper, nodding even though he can’t see, my heart aching with trust and fear.
“Then wait for me,” he says. “I’m coming for you, Bodie. I promise.”
The radio clicks off, and I’m alone again, the SUV’s rumble long gone, the night pressing in.
I sink back into the blankets, clutching Poot and Billy, my Little side trembling. They were already outnumbered, and now more cartel men are piling in.
Henry’s tough, a Guard who’s faced all this and more in the past, but he’s not invincible. The thought of him hurt— or worse —because of me, it’s a wave too big, threatening to pull me under.
I close my eyes, trying to find that brave Bodie, the one who’s not just a scared Little but a surfer boy who’s faced monsters before.
My mind drifts back, to a day three years ago, when I rode the biggest, most terrifying wave of my life…
It was Mavericks, up near Half Moon Bay, a surf spot that chews up pros and spits them out.
I was twenty, cocky, chasing legends.
The swell was massive, thirty-footers rolling in like mountains, the kind that make your stomach drop just watching.
My friends said I was nuts to paddle out, but I felt it—that fire, that need to prove I could.
I had Poot tucked in my bag on the shore, my most cherished stuffy cheering me on, and I hit the water, my board slicing through the chop.
The wave came, a beast, towering over me, its face glassy and cruel.
My heart screamed to bail, but I popped up, knees bent, board steady. The drop was endless, like falling off a cliff, the wind ripping at my hair, the ocean roaring in my ears.
I carved down, my body one with the wave, every instinct razor-sharp. Halfway down, it started to close out, the lip curling to crush me, but I leaned in, adjusted, rode the pocket.
I made it, shooting out the other side, whooping like a kid, my Little side bursting with pride.
That day, I’d truly faced the monster… and won.
That Bodie—he’s still in me, somewhere.
I hug Poot and Billy tighter, their softness grounding me, and whisper, “I can be brave again. For Daddy.”
My Little side clings to them, to Henry’s promise, but my grownup side summons that Mavericks fire, that surfer boy who doesn’t wipe out.
Henry’s fighting a war for me, and I’ve got to hold up my end, be his good boy, wait like he said. But it’s hard, knowing he’s out there, bullets flying, more enemies closing in.
I peek out the window again, the road empty now, the dune’s shadow cloaking Shred.
My romper’s snug, my stuffies are warm, and I try to sink into Little Space, to let it make me brave.
“You guys believe in Daddy, right?” I ask Poot and Billy, their eyes steady, like they’re nodding. “He’s gonna win. I know he is. I believe in him. And I need you to believe with me too.”
But the fear’s real, sharper than ever.
The cartel was worse than Vince’s men—they’re monsters, the kind who don’t care about promises or love.
I think of Henry’s arms around me, his gravelly voice calling me Little One , the way he colored dolphins with me, sparkles and all.
He’s my Daddy, my safe place, and I’m falling so deep I can’t imagine a life without him. If he doesn’t come back… if the cartel’s too much… I don’t know how I’ll keep riding the waves.
I tuck myself tighter into the blankets, my radio close, waiting for Henry’s voice, for any sign he’s okay.
My Little side hums a nursery rhyme, soft and shaky, trying to keep the fear at bay. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” I sing, barely a whisper, Poot and Billy my only audience.
I hope Henry’s summoning his own Mavericks moment, that Night Ops strength, that he and Cole and Connor can outsmart the cartel, take Vince down.
“Please, Daddy,” I murmur, tears slipping down my cheeks, wetting Poot’s fur. “Come back to me. We’ve got surf lessons to do.”
I cling to that promise, to the pinky swear on the beach, to the future I want—a home, roots, a life with my Daddy.
I’ve got to be brave, like I was at Mavericks, like Henry believes I am.
So I wait, hidden in Shred, my stuffies and my heart holding me together, praying my Daddy and his Guards come out on top…